


Let Me In Here, I Know I've Been Here

by girlboss_yonoi



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: 1st person is superior, M/M, basically this is the scene at the end written in curt's pov and then it continues on a little, hi, its in 1st person and i dont give a shit what you say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlboss_yonoi/pseuds/girlboss_yonoi
Summary: "Let me into your heart..."
Relationships: Arthur Stuart/Curt Wild
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Let Me In Here, I Know I've Been Here

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a reference to george harrison's "I'd Have You Anytime"
> 
> hi i wrote this in less than 12 hours (supposedly i have no concept of time)

There were footsteps approaching, I turned and looked. 

There was a man. Tall and thin, carrying a beer in his right hand, with his left in the pocket of a black leather jacket. I had to admit he was extremely attractive. No, attractive wasn't the word. Adorable. He was adorable. 

"You're Curt Wild." 

The voice was familiar. Why was it so familiar? 

"Yeah," I responded. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a journalist, from the herald."

It now dawned on me that he was british, I suppose spending a certain portion of your life in england really causes you to familiarize the accent. Maybe that's why his voice was so familiar? 

He pointed to my crumpled up ticket. "You were at the concert." 

I didn't turn my head. It felt as though he was attacking me, as though he knew the truth about why I had been there. But he couldn't- he just couldn't. 

He went on. "It's funny, cuz I was just trying to contact you actually. About a story I'm working on about an old friend of yours… Brian Slade."

I turned around and remembered the phone call. I hadn't thought much of it until now. 

I guess that was where I remembered the voice. Yet something in my head told me it went further back than that. 

I tried to get a good look at his face and suddenly I remembered the face as well. I tried to remember how I knew this man or where I met him, but I couldn't. 

"I want to find out what actually happened to him." 

"Look-" 

"I mean- before he became," the man smiled. That smile was even more familiar. 

"Such a mystery." 

I looked at him for a second longer, and laughed. 

"Look man I don't know who the hell you've been talking to or what you're after but…" 

"What?" 

I thought for a second. It continued to anger me that everyone always wanted to ask about the private lives of famous musicians. I may despise Brian but that doesn't stop me from respecting his wishes to remain anonymous. 

"Listen- a real artist creates beautiful things and puts nothing of his own life into it, okay?"

"Is that what you do?"

"No." I looked him in the eyes, the eyes were so familiar. I could suddenly visualize a younger version of this man, some party in the mid 70s maybe, had I made love to him? Possibly. Well, knowing myself of course I did. 

"We set out to change the world," I stuck my tongue out a little and smiled in a horrible attempt to flirt. "We end up just changing ourselves." 

"And what's wrong with that?" 

I didn't remove my eyes from his. "Nothing." 

I turned away and nodded towards the Tommy Stone poster on the wall. "I mean look at the world."

He turned to look at it as well. It seemed as though everyone in the bar did. And their eyes lingered on the profile that had changed so much in 10 years. 

I looked away. "Well I guess in the end he got what he wanted." 

I got up and swung on my leather jacket. 

"That's, quite a pin you've got there." 

I looked at it and the memories flooded back. 

"Oh yeah," I smiled. 

Brian had embraced me that day, and pulled the pin out of his pocket. I saw it and immediately became intrigued. 

"For sale?" 

_"Legend says it belonged to Oscar Wilde."_

"Possibly. Belonged to Oscar Wilde, or so I was told by the person who gave it to me." 

I took it off and examined it, I hadn't thought about it in a while actually. 

"Friend of mine. Kind of, disappeared a few years back." I smiled, and looked straight into the man's eyes again. I was suddenly recalling the night- yes the night on the rooftop. That night had been something else. I couldn't believe that kid had aged ten years into this professional, yet still adorable man

I looked away. Still smiling. 

"I forget where we were, we were on a trip. He said to me 'Curt, a man's life is his image.'"

I remembered now. It was the death of glitter concert. He had been some friend of the flaming creatures, christ how the hell did he end up being a journalist. 

I made a spur of the moment decision. 

I held out the pin to him. "Here why don't you hang on to it."

"Me?" 

"Sure why not. I've had it too long anyway. Go ahead." 

He looked up at me, full of surprise and confusion. It was adorable.

I smiled the biggest genuine smile I had in a very long time. 

"For your image." 

He smiled back, still confused. 

There was the sound of change entering a record machine across the room.

"No I- I couldn't." He handed me the pin back. "But thanks." 

I picked it out of his hand, which was warm and soft. 

The record began to play. 

I wasn't going to let him get away with this. 

He looked towards the machine and I took my opportunity, silently dropping the pin into his beer. 

"Anyway," I said, getting ready to leave. 

"Yeah?" 

"See ya 'round." 

"Cheers," he said and nodded. 

I took one last glance at his adorable face before walking out the back. 

In hindsight I should've been worried that he would choke, but something told me this wouldn't be the last time I would see him. 

And I was right. 

It was about a month later, when he came back to the bar. 

I had been sitting in the back again, this time more focused on writing a couple song lyrics to pass the time. 

He was wearing the same leather jacket as last time, but this time the pin was on it. 

I smiled at him flirtatiously. 

"So," he began. "Do you remember me?" 

"Yes." 

He tried to put on a flirtatious smile as well, but I could see the hidden relief in his eyes.

"You know I never caught your name," I suddenly realized. 

He smiled. 

"Arthur." 

Arthur. 

I repeated the name in my head a few times. He did look like an Arthur. 

Arthur walked over to the table and sat where he had before. 

"You writing then?" 

"Oh, yeah just a few practice pieces." 

"That's great." 

I hesitated before I spoke. "I would ask to buy you a drink but it seems you already have one," I smiled in a sort of proud way that definitely made me look like an idiot. But it appeared to work because Arthur smiled and responded. 

"Well let's pretend you bought me this one." 

We talked for a bit about stupid things. How the fashion had changed since the early 70s, where Polly Small and Jack Fairy were today, and even stupider things like ridiculous makeup brands that were coming back into popularity. 

The conversations eventually came to an end, and there was tension. I wasn't sure if I should make the first move or not. If I should kiss him in this bar, or bring him back home before doing so. 

Before I could think more about it he came closer to me, sat in the chair next to me. 

He was nervous. And so was I. 

My hand began to shake nervously on my thigh. 

Arthur slowly put his own hand on mine, and we looked at each other, our eyes connecting more than they ever had before. 

As our faces slowly inched closer I realized just how long it had been since I had kissed someone. I could hardly remember what it felt like. 

And suddenly I remembered. My eyes closed and I felt his lips against mine. His tongue entered my mouth and he slid his hands into my hair. I did the same, and the kiss went on and on for what seemed like forever. 

I took Arthur home that night, and a few nights later, and then almost every night. Eventually we were living together and while he was a successful journalist and I made an album every now and then, we were able to keep each other happy and stable. We forgot about everyone who had wronged us, and spent time with people who made us feel right. 

It was all good.

**Author's Note:**

> yes that end line was a iittle reference to ewan's tweet about arthur and curt :)


End file.
